Makes me feel so fine
by kerithwyn
Summary: You're my medicine, open up and let me in. [Bo/Dyson/Hale]


Fandom: Lost Girl

Rating: M

Relationships: Bo/Dyson, Bo/Hale, Dyson/Hale, Bo/Dyson/Hale

Summary: You're my medicine, open up and let me in.

Notes: Written for Holly Poly 2014. Set s1, post-"ArachnoFaebia."

* * *

This only happens once. But Bo remembers every moment, to the end of her days.

She stumbles along the corridor toward Dyson's loft, tasting the blood trickling down her face, clutching at her side where she can feel a huge bruise forming. Things are _shifting_ under her skin where things should not be moving. She'd been warned that satyrs could be wicked fighters. No one told her the one she'd been tracking had taken up kickboxing for profit and beating-the-crap-out-of-succubi fun.

He'd seemed to enjoy it, anyway. She's the one limping away with the sharp hoof cuts and what's becoming painfully evident is internal bleeding.

But she won't have to live with it for very long. At least, not if Dyson is home and actually holds up his end of the bargain—

He will. He has to. He promised, and for all that she met him a handful of weeks ago, Bo knows that Dyson keeps his promises. And it's not like he doesn't get something out of it too.

The door opens before she even has the chance to knock. Wolf nose, she thinks, half-hysterically, and she'd laugh if it didn't hurt to _breathe._

"Bo," Dyson growls, more exasperated than anything. She means to ask if she's disturbing his oh-so-important solitary boxing time except that she's too busy losing her balance and pitching forward, and then there's a fuzzy gray moment or six before she realizes she's being laid gently down on Dyson's bed.

She's already reaching for him when something about the quality of the air (or maybe some new succubus sense, she'll have to ask Dr. Lauren) tells her that he's not alone.

That simple fact is startling enough to make her bolt upright, and then immediately regret it. The air in her lungs hisses out and the pain is enough to make her forget how to regain it.

"Dammit, Bo. Here." Dyson's mouth crushes down on hers, pushing breath and chi into her, and Bo instinctively breathes him in.

He tastes like strength and wildness and arousal, only that last isn't entirely due to her.

For a moment she's..._irritated_ about that, despite the promise on both their parts that theirs is a professional arrangement between colleagues. Now that Bo understands her nature, she's determined not to let it rule her life anymore. And that means she and Dyson can have sex without it becoming a _thing._

The theory sounds good in her head, anyway. But part of her wants to drain him dry for the nerve of wanting anyone but her and leave him completely incapable of desiring anyone else.

She doesn't. Bo lets him go, feeling both ashamed of the impulse and ridiculously proud that she didn't give in to it. And then, belatedly, she looks around to see who he's been...entertaining.

The first thing she sees is the hat, perched neatly on a table rather than on its owner's head.

Her breath hisses out again, this time with a laugh (not half as painful this time) because...well, she should've _figured._ Dyson doesn't seem to be close to many people. It just makes sense that—

Bo's gaze lands on the hat's owner and she forgets to breathe again, this time in sheer surprise.

She hasn't given a lot of thought to Dyson's cop partner. Hale seems easy-going and he's been helpful at the right times, but she doesn't know much about him personally aside from the fact that he's always been there to back Dyson up, and really, what else does she need to know?

So the fact that he's here isn't surprising. The abs that would make a washboard cry in envy, _those_ are surprising.

He smiles at her, looking more amused than anything. "Feeling better?"

Bo nods, suddenly embarrassed. It would've been nice if the revelation of her succubus nature had cured her of that, at least. "I'm sorry I barged in. I'm— I'm interrupting." She swings her legs over the side of the bed, or at least that's her intent; halfway through the motion, her still-bruised ribcage shrieks in protest and Bo clenches her teeth to keep from shrieking with it.

Dyson's hand on her shoulder, gentle but unyielding, keeps her from moving any farther. "You're not going anywhere."

Hale steps forward, looking concerned. "Sure that's a good idea?"

His eyes are only on his partner, and Bo gets why. She's gotten hurt a lot lately. Since she's still too nervous about controlling her abilities with humans and choosing fae partners seems to have a bunch of rules and traps she hasn't figured out yet, Dyson's been her primary source of...nourishment.

"It's fine." Dyson smiles at her. She can feel his willingness, his aura waving to her like a red flag.

Bo really just wants to drag him down, but Hale has a point. "I can find someone at the Dal—"

"Not what I meant," Hale says, and when she glances at him, he's grinning. Dyson snorts a laugh and Bo knows she's missing something, cop shorthand maybe.

Or maybe not. "He means," Dyson says with a wry smile, "this is one of those situations where I should probably call for backup."

Hale's smile has turned hopeful, anticipatory. Part of her, the part that's still Beth Dennis, is shocked by the suggestion. Even after the threesome with the Fury and her husband.

The rest of her has to admit that she's been wondering about Hale ever since she stole a taste of him when the spider-fae invaded her home. The fact that he's sculpted like an idealized statue just adds to the temptation.

And she's a succubus. It's probably a biological fact that self-denial isn't in her nature. She'll ask Lauren about that too, some other time.

Bo crooks a finger at Hale in invitation and he immediately strides over to the side of the bed, shouldering Dyson out of the way. "Let a professional show you how it's done, wolfman."

"Professional _what,_" Dyson says, all fond mockery, but he obligingly lets Hale take his place.

Bo licks her lips in anticipation as Hale leans down to kiss her. Hale's chi is orderly, like a tended rock garden or a shaped bonsai, but he also tastes like laughter, like lightness and a man who finds easy enjoyment of his life. It's no wonder he and Dyson make such good partners, a contrast of opposites.

They break apart and Bo smiles at him, breathing easily now but not at all sated. "That was a good start."

Hale grins with the confidence of a man firmly in his element. "Lots more where that came from, lil' lady."

Bo glances over at Dyson, who's watching them with an amused smile. "You just gonna watch?"

Dyson smirks and leans casually against the nearest wall. "Saving my strength for round two."

Hale rolls his eyes and pointedly moves to block Dyson from Bo's view. His hands come up to gently strip away her bloodied jacket—Kenzi's going to scream when she sees the stains on the leather—and though he doesn't hurry, they're both naked in short order.

Hale goes slower than Dyson, he's more gentle with her body. And yet somehow, his touch is more impersonal—like, he's having a good time, and he wants her to have a good time, but there's nothing complicated about his involvement.

She doesn't need complicated right now. What she _needs_ is the orgasm Hale coaxes out of her with his hands and clever tongue, and the one she gets riding his cock, and the sweet attentive wind-down even after he's come. Bo hasn't met a lot of guys she thinks of as "gentlemen," but after today, that's how she'll think of Hale.

Dyson's been so quiet that she forgot he was there until he says, "Pretty. Up for more?"

She turns to him, grinning because that's seriously not a question. "Definitely. But I want to watch you two. Since I interrupted your evening."

Hale glances at Dyson and then breathes a weary sigh at his partner's assenting nod. "You're askin' a lot. But I'm prepared to take extraordinary measures." He whistles an odd few notes that go right to Bo's crotch.

Hale's, too. "Fey Viagra?" she asks wryly, and Hale grins.

"Figure it's only fair we show you what partners can really do when we work together."

She laughs as Dyson finally pushes himself off the wall, his shadow covering them both as he leans over the bed. "All healed, then?"

"Mostly. But I'm curious to see if I can feed off others when I'm not, you know. Involved."

"Far be it from me to discourage a learning experience," Dyson says dryly.

Turns out she can. Bo just might have to thank that satyr when she tracks him down again.

* * *

Title and summary from "Sexual Healing" by Marvin Gaye, natch.


End file.
